Whispers in the Cerulean Tide

The salt air tastes like secrets kept in jars, and today, I am finally opening mine.
I stand where the land surrenders to the deep blue, letting the waves wash away the dust of a city that never sleeps. My dress ripples against my skin—a soft, cerulean shadow dancing with the tide. It feels as though I am dissolving into the horizon, becoming part of the shimmering light that blinds and heals all at once.
I close my eyes and can still feel the ghost of your hand on mine from that rainy afternoon in the city. Your touch was like a steady flame in a storm, a warmth that lingers even now as the spray kisses my cheeks. They say the sea heals, but I think it is the memory of you that does the heavy lifting.
Is it possible to be both alone and full? Here, with the sun gold on my hair and your name humming in my chest like a distant melody, I am learning how to breathe again. It is a slow, beautiful ache—a lingering invitation to stay just a moment longer in this dream.

Editor: Coco